


The Angel's Confession

by ProCAStination



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:01:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3698381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProCAStination/pseuds/ProCAStination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has been depressed for ages which nobody seems to have noticed until Castiel does, which makes him realise the weird human emotions he is feeling towards Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Angel's Confession

There he was. Sitting down on the old sofa in the dark room. He was just sitting there, his eyes were closed, his forehead was creased and he was rubbing his eyes in deep concentration. He didn't seem to notice I was just standing there, watching him and his painful thoughts. I shifted a little in my stance and somewhere deep in my throat there was a rough kind of feeling. I cleared my throat in hope of ridding the annoying tickle. As soon as I made a sound, Dean jumped up, pulling a knife out in mid flight. In a fine wrist movement he pulled the light switch and readied himself for a fight. Of course how could he have expected any sort of supernatural being, he was in the bunker after all, within its protecting walls and sense of security. I had second thoughts about whether I should have intruded without any sort of a warning. As soon as the lights were on though, Dean's shoulders relaxed as he saw me. He put the knife back into the table and sighed in relief.

"Sorry Dean," my voice came out croaker than I thought. "Cas. Good to see you again." He sounded exhausted and depressed. Depressed. The word sliced at my insides at a greater pain rate than an angel blade had ever done. My expression softened as I stared at the empty human. His eyes reflected nothing. As I looked intensely at them, I only saw pain and sadness. They reflected the emotions of a dying man. Dean was dying inside. His soul was worn. There was no fight left in him. The only thing keeping him alive was the mark. The only thing keeping him alive was also killing him, slowly and painfully. I smiled at him, trying to enlighten his mood. He smiled back, but it was hardly a half-smile. He sat down again and motioned for me to come next to him. The couch looked so comfortable in that spot right there, next to Dean, but he was always talking about personal space so I carefully placed myself further down the couch. I held both my hands on my knees not knowing where else to place them. I planned the next few hours in my head. How I would come up with something funny enough to make him start laughing again. Or maybe we would teleport to a bar and spend hours talking and people-watching. Whatever it was though, I would get him out of it. Out of his depression. I promised him that secretly.

I didn't know whether to look at Dean or to keep staring straight ahead at the decorated wall. But I looked at him anyway. He was looking at me too though. Which kind of made me feel a little uncomfortable. Dean had recently never looked at me. He might have _seen_ me, but he never really looked. He was constantly blinded by negative thoughts and experiences. So we just sat there, observing each other. I noticed the humans lips moving upwards, his eyes weren't dull anymore either. Dean started smiling. He was smiling! Under all that pain and depression, he had managed a smile. His eyes were laughing, his cheeks were blushing, his fingers were fiddling. He was happy. I smiled back, a peculiar action which left a warm feeling in my chest. It was so warm in fact, that I felt my cheeks start to go red. The person sitting in front of me, Dean Winchester, he could make all my problems and concerns vanish within just a single smile. It was Dean who I had kept fighting for. The real reason I fought for humanity. A word formed in my head and I repeated it over and over, letting it sink in. A word which held no definite meaning but was merely a human emotion. That was the reason my father had created humans to be the way they were. _Love_. He loved humans and expected us to do the same. I wouldn't know what he would do if he found out I was 'i _n love_ ' with one of them. I was in love with Dean Winchester.

"Dean?" My voice came out in an excited yet croaky manor. I smiled once again at the awaiting human. "I love you." Dean Winchester beamed as I stuttered those three words. He leapt onto me and kissed me with those soft lips I had been meaning to touch for ages. "I love you too," Dean's words were warm and soft as they were pressed onto my lips. There was hope for Dean Winchester. Hope for the depression and the mark. I wouldn't let anything happen to him. Heaven and Hell could wait. He was my heaven - a better version than the standard one.


End file.
